


We Cannot Meet Death Better

by Crimson1



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Barry cries alot, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, So It Doesn't Count, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, characters die of old age in the future, not tagging as actual major character death but you've been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 20:29:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6208993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimson1/pseuds/Crimson1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Someone else should be here,” Barry said with a frown. “You’re a hero.”</p><p>Snart snorted, cocking an eyebrow at Barry as if they were back in 2024, maybe even back in 2014 when everything started. “You expecting a parade for the death of Captain Cold? All things considered with the Justice League, kid, I’m not all that memorable.”</p><p>“You are to me.”</p><p>Barry wakes up after being stuck in the Speed Force for forty years because of the crisis of 2024 to find that almost everyone he loves is dead. After seeing Iris and Snart, he decides to go back in time to change things. What he doesn't expect is just how differently a life he decides to lead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Cannot Meet Death Better

**Author's Note:**

> farflungstars gave me this prompt on AO3 to use the quote, "If death ends all, we cannot meet death better." At first I didn't know what to do with it, and then...I became possessed apparently and couldn't do anything else until this was finished. I hope you like it, farflungstars! And all the rest of you as well. 
> 
> You will cry, but the character death is at first temporary, and in the end of old age and quite happy so...please don't let that scare you off!

If asked during his time inside the Speed Force what it was like, Barry would have been able to describe it clearly: something transcendent and calming, while also filling his veins with the sensation of being in constant motion. He was never hungry or tired, never hot or cold. It wasn’t expansive, but not constricting or suffocating either, just existence like living inside a cloud of pure energy. 

He could still think, still want, and oh how he wanted—freedom, release, was all he craved. Not because there was something to despise about the Speed Force itself, but because it wasn’t where he belonged. Not forever. He was part of it, it was part of him, in him and guiding his powers, but being within it he existed without what he most needed in life—his friends and family. Without them, he screamed with no voice for what might have been minutes or eons. 

Until one day, finally, he found his way out. 

Barry gulped in air as if he hadn’t breathed the entire time he’d been gone. Immediately he knew that it had been much more than minutes, if only by how drastically his city had changed. The battle that had ended with him going so fast that he phased into seeming nothingness had been on the outskirts of town, so the view was truly magnificent when he reappeared at the same spot. That wasn’t the skyline he was used to. It had been years. Years. He just didn’t know how many. 

Barry brushed aside all thought of the Speed Force and his time there, caring only about finding his way home, and discovering just how long he’d been away. He ran first to the West house, and it still stood as he remembered it. The last thing he'd seen before being engulfed by the Speed Force was the horrified faces of his loved ones—Iris, Cisco, Caitlin, Oliver, even Snart had been there to help—which to them must have looked as though Barry disintegrated into nothing. 

He opened the door to the sound of soft music playing, jazzy but unfamiliar. Some of the furniture he knew, some he’d never seen before. He wanted to seek out photographs, but he knew he had to announce his presence or risk scaring whoever was home. So he called out, “Joe?”

A dish clattered in the kitchen. Barry drew back his cowl and waited. His father wasn’t the one who peeked their head into the living room. It was an old woman, white haired, lined face. A familiar skin tone and very, very familiar features despite the difference in age told Barry exactly who stood in the doorway looking at him as though she’d seen a ghost. 

“Iris…”

Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as tears built in her eyes and she choked out a sob. Barry dashed at Flash speed across the living room to embrace her, not caring anymore if he startled her because…this was Iris. His Iris. His wife. 

It had taken them years after the singularity to get together. It never seemed right in the beginning to even consider pursuing her. Eventually, over time, ever close, never not loving her, it happened. They were in their thirties before they married. There wasn’t time for kids, because only a few short years later the crisis happened. 

“Iris,” Barry said again, holding her against his chest as she sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” He was crying too, heavy tears he’d wanted to cry all those years he’d been in the Speed Force but couldn’t. It had been so much longer than he could have guessed. 

“Forty years,” she said in a voice that was her but different, hoarse with age. She’d be seventy-five now. “Oh Barry. I always wondered. Always hoped. But there was no sign of you. We waited. Tried everything we could think of. Eventually, we had to move on.”

It was only then that Barry saw some of the photographs he’d wanted to seek out when he first walked through the door. Iris at varying ages with a man Barry didn’t know. With children. With grandchildren. 

“Tom’s out today, but we’re both retired now,” Iris said, able to read him so well even before she pulled back to look him in the face, holding his shoulders tightly. “Look at you, Barry Allen. Like it was only yesterday…”

For Barry it had been. More like…today in some ways, though he’d felt the span of time with something strange and gnawing that must have made him go mad a few times over until he came out sane again on the other side. 

“It was 2024,” Barry said, “and now it’s…2064? So everyone… Joe?” he prompted softly.

She shook her head.

“Cisco? Caitlin?”

A little slower, a little more somber, she shook her head again. 

“Anyone?”

“Wally’s here. Helps train the next generation sometimes, though he’s supposed to be retired too,” she said with a small chuckle. “There’s a whole new crew now, Barry, children of the people you knew in most cases. A few others are still around, in different cities. But the ones who were there that day, only me, Wally, and…well, Leonard doesn’t have much time now, stubborn old fool that he is.” 

“Leonard?” Barry brightened. “Snart’s alive? He’d be…” Barry didn’t actually know Snart’s age, but he knew the man was nearly double his own years. 

“Ninety-three now I think?” Iris said. “Gideon?” she called out to the house.

“Yes, Ms. West,” Gideon’s familiar synthesized voice responded around them from invisible speakers, making Barry start and then grin softly. Iris had gone back to her maiden name; no new hyphen for husband #2. “Leonard Snart, formerly known as both Captain and Commander Cold, is ninety-three years old and currently being treated at Central City Hospital.”

“Hospital?” Barry repeated, though his brain also paused on the Commander title. 

“Leonard’s health has been going downhill for years now. Doctors don’t think he has much longer. Wally and I try to visit sometimes, I think we’re the only ones left who would, but we were never very close.”

Barry couldn’t imagine Iris ever calling Snart by his first name, let alone visiting him on his death bed. 

Death bed… That thought brought something thick and sour with it, which was silly—everyone Barry knew was dead now, it should hardly move him that Snart was one among many about to leave this world, and yet…it did move him, as if Iris, Wally, and Snart were the last connections to reality he had left. 

“I’m sure he’d love to see you, Barry. He kept up being a hero even after you were gone. Trained a whole slew of tech users. Hell, taught some metas and magic users a few things. He’s been retired a long time now though, hardly one of the JLA anyone remembers much of, unless in relation to you. He has a few pieces at The Flash Museum of course, but he mostly just scoffs at all that, those days when you two were at odds.”

Barry remembered too well. The Flash Museum had opened only days before the crisis happened. Barry had missed it all. He’d missed an entire life with Iris and his friends. He looked into her lined face, still so beautiful, those remarkably bright dark eyes. “I’m so sorry, Iris,” he said again, taking her hands and holding them tightly. 

She smiled at him in a way he was so used to from his own time, from years of loving this woman that it made him want to erupt into fresh tears. “Don’t be sorry, Barry. You did what you thought was right that day. You made a choice. I’ve had a good life. Now it’s time for you to live yours.” She raised a hand to his face, wearing a wedding ring different from the one he had once given her. 

A few more tears spilled, from both of them. Eventually, Iris led him to the sofa. She told Barry some of the things he had missed in the past forty years—so many things, though mostly she told him about her husband, Tom, and their children. Their grandchildren. A few of them were even metas. It was more common now, as evolution took hold.

When morning faded into late afternoon and Iris’s husband was due home, Barry said he should go. 

“You can stay here, Barry. Where else are you going to go?”

“I don’t know yet. I think I need to figure that out. I promise, if it comes down to me sleeping on the streets, I’ll be back. I just need to think for a while.”

She gave him clothes that fit well enough, and he carried his Flash suit in a bag over his shoulder with several items she packed him, including photos, mementos of his she’d kept, like his mother’s wedding ring, and several sandwiches. 

He walked the city until the sun set, just getting a feel for how Central had changed. People in general seemed the same, though he didn’t have to worry about anyone recognizing him. Occasionally he saw someone that maybe, maybe was related to someone he’d once known, but he didn’t have the heart to ask them. 

He passed by STAR Labs, which was a booming, very different place now, where a new Flash called home, some young speedster Wally had trained that had taken up the mantle, which would be passed down for generations to come. But he couldn’t go in, couldn’t bring back all those memories that were so distant for everyone but him. 

As the streets grew darker, and he’d already eaten through everything Iris packed him, he wondered if he should go back to stay the night. But before he could pause too long to think on that, his feet carried him to Central City Hospital. 

It was well past visiting hours, but Barry could avoid a few night nurses. He found the location of Snart’s room in the hospice wing and zipped inside without anyone noticing. The room was dark, the beep of machines the only sound save ragged breathing as Snart slept. Barry set his bag on the floor and sat down in the lone chair beside the bed. 

Snart looked…well, old. Older even than ninety-three, like he could go at any moment. It suddenly angered Barry that no one was here for him. Lisa and Mick, they must be gone already too. The others who’d been closest to Snart—everyone. He didn’t have kids. He didn’t have anyone else to visit if not Iris and Wally. And that seemed so maddening and sad to Barry as he sat there, staring at the weathered face of his…nemesis. 

The buzzed hair was the same, just white instead of speckled grey. The chiseled jaw was still strong, merely lined and tired looking. It was a nice room at least; someone’s money being put to good use. The blanket over Snart’s hospital-issue sheets even had snowflakes on it. 

For whatever reason, taking note of that small detail of snowflakes on a blanket was the last jolt of reality to cave in Barry’s crumbling walls. He broke down into fresh sobs, crying harder than he had with Iris. Snart lying there alone summed up everything Barry was feeling, as just lost and unfair and fading in front of him before he even had the chance to save it. 

He fell forward with his hands between his knees and cried, and cried, and must have kept on like that for several minutes…before a low, lilting voice spoke.

“Well, well…if it isn’t the Scarlet Speedster.” 

Barry’s head snapped up. Familiar crystalline blue eyes looked back at him from the withered face in the hospital bed.

Snart’s voice was just as Barry remembered it, if somewhat softer from fatigue and old age. “How is it you’re at my bedside, kid, looking like you haven’t aged a day since I last saw you?”

Barry’s tongue tied for all of thirty seconds as he wiped at his eyes. “I…I just got back. Finally found my way out. I was trapped in the Speed Force.”

“And you came to see me?”

“Went to Iris first. Everyone else is gone.”

“Don’t I feel special then,” Snart smirked.

“I didn’t mean…” Barry fumbled for how to recover from the all too familiar embarrassment of eating his foot, but Snart just laughed. Which turned into a slight cough. He waved Barry away when he stood up to help, so Barry sat back down. “Someone else should be here,” Barry said with a frown. “You’re a hero.” 

Snart snorted, cocking an eyebrow at Barry as if they were back in 2024, maybe even back in 2014 when everything started. “You expecting a parade for the death of Captain Cold? All things considered with the Justice League, kid, I’m not all that memorable.”

“You are to me.”

Snart stared at him with a crease in his brow that was hard to differentiate from the natural lines. He didn’t seem to disagree so much as search Barry’s face, reading him better than most, even after forty years. “It’s all coz a you, Barry. Wouldn’t have ever thought of changing my stripes if some punk kid hadn’t gotten it into my head all those years ago that there was good in me.”

“Well…I was right.” Barry smiled through his remaining tears, which were finally beginning to still. 

“That your way of saying ‘I told you so’? Why ever did I put up with you, I wonder?”

Barry sputtered a laugh. Only Snart, he thought. Only Snart could still banter on his death bed. Barry scooted the chair closer, reached out and placed his hand over Snart’s on the bed, which shook as it tried to turn and clasp his hand in return. So Barry helped. Fit their hands together. Held on tight. 

Snart had no regrets about his life, he said, even if his circle always remained small, so small that no one he loved was still alive; against all odds, he'd outlived them all. Even if he would never be remembered the way the higher-tiered heroes were. Even if he was no Legend, other than having a place of honor as one of The Flash’s first villains. 

"I made my choices, Barry, just as you made yours. Some mistakes. Some things good. I don’t mind that it all ends here. After all,” he smiled, and for a moment Barry saw the man Snart once was, still young and handsome and full of ambition, “if death ends all…we cannot meet death better."

Tears rose to the surface again like a tidal wave of emotion, as Barry tried and failed to sniff them back. 

“Me and you, Flash,” Snart said. “Always comes down to me and you. Fitting, I think. Might finally…be able to let go now. Been so tired…for so long…”

“Snart?” Barry glanced up from his renewed tears to see Snart’s eyes drifting closed, the grip of his hand loosening. “No…not yet, please not yet. There are so many things I still…that I…I…I don’t know what to do. What do I do?” The tears fell harder, but Snart wouldn’t answer him. His breaths became shallower, until Barry knew that at any moment, they would cease. 

So he held on, long after the hand in his grasp went limp and the machines gave their final war cry, signaling that Barry didn’t have much time before nurses would come in and catch him. 

Slowly, Barry stood, wiping the final tears from his eyes, and reached a trembling hand to Snart’s forehead to rest his palm there. He didn’t know how else to express what he was feeling. There had never been easy physical contact between them, and yet in that moment, Barry wished Snart was still with him so the man could embrace him back if Barry hugged him goodbye. 

Suddenly, it all seemed so clear—what Barry had to do. 

“You’ll see me again, Snart,” he said, before picking up on the sound of pounding feet approaching and snatching up his bag—then dropping it again and leaving it there, red suit replacing the clothing he’d borrowed from Iris. He’d need it for what he was about to do. 

Before the nurses burst into the room, Barry ran. And ran. And ran. Fast as he ever had. Not in a straight line but in circles around his city. 

Leonard Snart had changed. He’d proven so many people wrong. Barry himself had seen the change over the decade before the crisis happened, but it all seemed so small now, like Barry had missed even more than the forty years that passed while he was in stasis. He had made an impact on Snart because he believed in him, but he could have done more, so much more. 

Snart was right. All anyone could do was try, even if they failed. How could Barry not try to make things better when the way to fix things was right at his fingertips—or at least at the heels of his feet? 

Barry considered saying goodbye to Iris, seeing Wally, but no, he could do so much better for them, so much more than just goodbye—he’d make things right. 

But as he ran and ran and ran, as fast as he could push himself, seeking a particular point in time, something he’d once mastered the nuances of, he didn’t realize he’d gone farther than he intended until he fused with his past self, and suddenly…he was no longer wearing the Flash suit. 

He was in Joe’s house, looking at a young—so very young—Iris, with Christmas decorations all around them. 

“Barry?” Iris prompted him. 

He surged forward, enveloping her in his arms and nearly crushing her to his chest. 

“My, my…am I interrupting a private moment?”

Barry gasped at the familiar voice coming from the living room. He pulled away from Iris and turned, the whole scene displayed just as Barry remembered it, as which Christmas this was became clear in his mind. Snart sitting there in the living room in full Cold gear, a mug of cocoa in his hands contained within a festive reindeer mug. 

“Ho, ho, ho,” Snart smirked at him, looking to get a rise out of Barry, to hide the real reason he was there behind banter and threats and smug indifference. But Barry knew the truth.

He flashed across the living room as he had in the original timeline, but this time it wasn’t to slam Snart against the fireplace. As Snart set the mug aside, Barry was right there to yank him up out of the chair and pull him into an embrace as tightly as he’d held Iris. He could feel the tears threatening to fall again as Snart stiffened in his hold, but he choked them back, reminding himself that this was real, and he could fix it all now, make sure he did things right and that he didn’t leave those he loved alone again for forty years when the time came. 

“Good to see you too, Barry,” Snart said, not lifting his arms to hug Barry in return but keeping them limp at his sides. 

Barry could feel the tension in his old…friend, and remembered with something of a start how much Snart shied from touch, especially back in 2015. He jerked away, releasing Snart abruptly. “Sorry…sorry, I just…it’s just been a very weird, very long day.”

“Barry?” Iris called from the entryway. 

He looked back at her, and god, she was beautiful at twenty-six, just as beautiful as she’d be almost fifty years from now. He smiled to reassure her. “I know you’re here to warn me about Jesse and Mardon,” he said as he turned back to Snart.

“And how’s that?” Snart cocked his head in suspicion. 

“Because I know you’d never work with them, even if Mardon did break you out. And maybe…maybe you’re not ready to help me fight them. Fine. But if you change your mind, when you change your mind and are ready to try things from my side for once, I’ll be waiting.” He smiled wider, because he knew it was only a matter of time before Snart took him up on that offer. Months from now, after traveling through space and history, Snart would be a changed man, all because Barry first pushed him to be better.

Barry could tell he’d floored his nemesis, an expression he’d rarely if ever seen on the man’s face, before Snart collected himself and donned his customary smirk. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, kid. I’m just here because I owe you for Lisa. Now we’re square. This ain't a sign of things to come.”

“Sure it isn’t,” Barry said. “And thanks. I know where to find Mardon and Jesse, know what they’re planning. Long story. But I appreciate you coming here to give me the head’s up. Oh…and sorry about the mini marshmallows,” he gestured to the reindeer mug as he remembered the way this conversation had gone the first time. “Pretty sure I ate them all. Let’s say, next time we cross paths, I owe you a drink to make up for it.”

Snart stood for nearly a solid minute unable to respond. He even glanced at Iris as if she might have an answer for Barry’s odd behavior. Iris shrugged, amused eyebrows raised in question. 

“Merry Christmas, Barry,” Snart said at long last, with maybe the barest hint of genuineness that had been missing when this happened originally, as he moved for the door and prompted Iris to give him a wide berth. 

Maybe one day things could be congenial between them. Maybe they could all be more than strained friends, fighting side by side for survival. Barry had almost a decade to figure it all out after all, and although he’d set his sights on arriving right before the crisis, he felt it in his gut that this was better. He knew the risks of changing the past, but he’d learned from Rip Hunter, from Snart even, that sometimes breaking the rules was necessary to preserve the future. 

“Merry Christmas, Snart.”

Some things Barry did the same as the first time around, some things he changed. If he could save someone, he saved them. But he was always careful to work through things the hard way, even if taking a slightly different path, so no one ever knew he'd done it all before.

He ended things with Patty sooner, kinder, after telling her that he was The Flash. He owed her that. But she would meet a wonderful man eventually, and love being a CSI; he couldn’t take that away from her. 

He, Cisco, and Harry went to Earth 2 without anyone dying, not Ronnie, not Joe. Barry knew he could defeat Zoom because for him he’d done it already. They saved the man in the iron mask. Left Harry and Jesse behind, which saddened Barry but it was the right thing. And finally, they confronted Jay waiting for them back at home, who Barry knew could be so much more than his secrets. 

Barry even talked sense into Oliver a few times as the weeks and months passed, which was never an easy feat. 

It was peaceful for a while after Zoom, having the upper hand for so long. But Barry wasn’t the only one dictating changes to the timeline. One day Leonard Snart showed up in the cortex, unarmed. Not that Barry would have worried.

“What? No hug this time around, Barry?” he grinned at him. 

He was dressed more casually than Barry usually saw him, simple black sweater and jeans, black canvas jacket. No gun holster. No place for the cold gun to hide. But that expression, that crooked smirk with challenge in his eyes had Barry flashing over to embrace him before Snart could say anything more. 

The man stiffened as he had at Christmas, clearly having meant his words as a joke. “That wasn’t an invitation,” he said, keeping his hands to himself. 

Barry squeezed more firmly and chuckled into his shoulder. “Too bad.”

Eventually, Snart’s hands came up and gave two firm pats to Barry’s back. “Okay, kid, enough already.”

While this time Barry had let himself linger despite Snart’s tentativeness, he didn’t want to make the man uncomfortable, so he pulled away. “You fell off the radar. I’m just glad to see you’re okay.”

Snart narrowed his eyes at Barry. Cisco and Caitlin were elsewhere in the building, leaving them alone in the cortex for the moment, though Barry likely would have risked the hug even if they had been present. “Why do I get the impression you already know full well where I’ve been and what I’ve been up to?”

Barry smiled sunnily, and echoed Snart’s cryptic tone. “Whatever gave you that impression?”

“Ah!” Cisco cried out as he entered from the other room, eyes bugging out of his head and tablet fumbling in his arms as he struggled to hang onto it. “What’s he doing here?”

“Flash here owes me a drink,” Snart said, gauging Barry’s reaction to see if he’d fall over himself with embarrassment after Cisco gaped at them. But this Barry had lived longer and seen more than his younger counterpart to be so easily swayed. He never lost his smile. “Also,” Snart conceded the point with a nod, “I was volunteered to fill you lot in on some recent developments to the timeline. I hear that’s something you’re used to manipulating on occasion. Now I am too. If you’re willing to listen.” He held up his hands, obviously more for Cisco’s sake, to show he had no weapons. 

Cisco scowled and clutched his tablet tighter, attempting a not-so-subtle silent communication with Barry that the answer should be absolutely not. 

Snart raised an eyebrow at the engineer. 

Barry looked between them both and laughed. “You got it, Snart. We can’t wait to hear all about it.” 

In the original timeline, helping Rip Hunter had taken a toll on Snart. He enjoyed doing good and wanted to keep doing it, but there was an edge that remained, all scars and sharp corners that still had him act out on occasion, usually in the form of a well-planned heist Barry had to foil. Yet somehow, facing Barry, Snart never took it too far. Oh, he stole and caused a little chaos, but once he saw Barry show up to stop him, the sharpness in him dulled. He never hurt anyone. He never crossed the line.

In this changed timeline, the same thing played itself out on occasion, but Barry couldn’t help noticing that there were fewer instances, and more times when Snart would show up to help just when Barry needed him. Maybe those hugs were worth more than Barry could have guessed. 

And maybe—a little more than maybe—Barry couldn’t resist pushing with Snart more than he had dared the first time around. 

“Thanks for the help, Snart. You know…you don’t have to go right away.”

“You sure you don’t want to ditch this heist and help me bring in Mirror Master instead?”

“Hey, can I have Lisa’s number? For Cisco! Come on, you don’t need to charge your gun, I know you don’t mean it.” 

“Well, I just thought…if you didn’t have anywhere else to go for Christmas this year…”

Years went by, and somewhere along the line Barry forgot to do a few things from the original timeline. Namely…he forgot to start pursuing Iris. 

It was 2019. Thanksgiving was when he should have made his move. Things were happy with Wally as an addition to the family, easy and companionable, more so since he’d become a speedster and Barry didn’t have to hide from Wally that he was The Flash. 

“How about Impulse? Or Rocket?” Wally tried at the dinner table.

“How 'bout Flash Junior, kiddo,” Joe snickered. 

“Or…” Iris said mischievously, and Barry laughed at all of it, even though he knew how things would play out.

He and Iris were both single. Several villains had been thwarted and the city saved more times than Barry could count. He remembered how it was supposed to happen. A simple brush of their hands washing dishes, a catch of their eyes, a shared smile and quick dart away, and then…possibility looming. By Christmas Barry would have stored up enough nerve to steal a kiss beneath the mistletoe. 

That year Leonard and Lisa Snart attended the West Family Christmas Party for the first time, and it wasn’t until Lisa caught Cisco under the mistletoe and planted a rather amorous kiss to his lips that Barry recalled his past. Then recalled how Thanksgiving had actually gone and that he’d let Wally help Iris with the dishes without a second thought. 

Something churned in Barry’s stomach that he’d been neglecting, pushing down and burying under work and trying to make other things better. He didn’t know what to do about his wife. He loved Iris. Always would. When he first disappeared in the crisis, he’d left behind wonderful memories with her. Despite everything—despite Eddie, and Patty, and others along the way—they’d been happy. 

Over the course of the few years he’d spent reliving his past differently, Barry tried to push all that away. He knew of a future where Iris lived a good and happy life with someone else. She had children, and grandchildren that, with a wish, Barry could negate from all existence. How could he feel anything but sick when he thought of that? If things happened as they had the first time around, he and Iris would be happy, and if he managed to survive the crisis, they could continue to be happy. But then he’d take from her all the happiness he saw on her face in 2064. 

“And here I thought I was the only one sneering at my sister’s inappropriateness,” Snart said, startling Barry almost into dropping his eggnog as he came up beside him. Barry expected Snart to have a beer, but when he looked, that same old reindeer mug was in his hands, teeming with mini marshmallows. 

Barry laughed, and realized there were tears in his eyes as one slipped free down his cheek. He hadn’t meant to stare so long at Cisco and Lisa while getting lost in his memories. 

“Holiday blues, Barry?” Snart asked, wistfully, but with a hint of something behind his eyes that showed how earnestly he meant the question. 

“Just…really happy everyone could be together this year,” Barry covered. He could tell by the way Snart pursed his lips that he didn’t buy a word of it, but the other man didn’t push. “I’m glad you and Lisa came.”

Snart clinked his mug against Barry’s eggnog. “Now that I see you didn’t skimp on the marshmallows this year…so am I.” He smiled, and it was a smile, not a smirk or a grin.

That year was the last year they all got each other presents. The group grew too big over time and they started doing Secret Santa and White Elephant parties instead, but that year Cisco gave Snart and Lisa new costumes—and an ugly sweater for Snart because it had a disgruntled looking snowman on the front that reminded him of the (sometimes) former thief. 

Joe got Iris a briefcase for her promotion at Picture News. Henry got Joe a fishing rod, since the two fathers had decided to spend more time together now that Henry had moved back to Central. Iris and Caitlin got each other gift certificates for the same store as an excuse to go shopping. They invited Lisa along too. And Jay got Caitlin a ring. 

Once the pandemonium over the proposal died down, Barry pulled Snart aside. He didn’t want to make a big deal over this, knew the others would fuss and tease if they saw, and Snart wasn’t the type to enjoy that sort of thing. Barry wanted this to be private. 

A few weeks back, working on some cold cases, Barry had stumbled upon, completely by accident, several case files labelled ‘Snart’. But they were too old to have been anything Leonard Snart had done. It wasn’t theft files anyway; it was domestic disturbances. 

When Barry first found the photographs he had been so angry, he almost tore the file folder in two. He knew what Lewis Snart had been like, what he’d done to his kids, but to see it was a different monster altogether. 

And then, buried in one of the files, Barry had found a different photograph, one not depicting damage done to Lisa or Snart, but likely one saved for identification. Because it was a happy photo. Snart—little Leonard—wrapped up in his mother’s arms from behind, smiling at the camera, as her little boy smiled brilliantly too. 

Maybe it was from before the abuse started, he looked so young, barely five years old; maybe it was between times when they managed to be happy despite Lewis. Regardless, it was a beautiful, happy memory, captured and held prisoner in police records where too many things rotted away. Barry decided that the old piece of evidence deserved to be free. 

“Barry,” Snart frowned when Barry handed him the small wrapped package, “I don’t have anything—”

“Come on, Snart, I didn’t expect anything, don’t worry. I just…found this, and wanted you to have it.”

Barry could count on one hand the times he’d seen Leonard Snart close to tears, when he killed his father for his sister’s sake being one of the very few. This time caught both of them by surprise, because Barry’s eyes felt hot too, as he watched a few tears drop onto the torn wrapping paper as Snart held the photograph. 

“Thank you, Barry.”

“Merry Christmas, Snart.”

That year, Barry gave Snart a rare happy piece of his past. 

He did not kiss Iris. 

2020 marked the year The Justice League would be formed. Barry was excited every time he got to meet one of his old friends for the first time. 

That year was also when Barry introduced Iris to Tom. He’d started searching for the man as soon as Christmas ended, his decision made. He’d do nothing more than make sure they met. From there, Iris would decide what she wanted, as she always did. 

It was easy enough to orchestrate a meeting. Barry met Tom first, got to know him, liked him instantly and understood why Iris would like him, love him. Then one day he made sure they ran into each other, and Barry got to say only too casually, “Oh, Iris, this is Tom.”

Instant chemistry. Barry saw the moment it happened. This look passed between them, Tom’s breath stolen by Iris’s vibrancy, her beauty, and Iris equally taken off guard by him. It was something Barry remembered Iris had with Eddie, but he wasn’t sure if it had ever existed with him. 

He knew he was being ridiculous, discounting the love they’d shared, but he just wanted Iris to be happy, without any regrets. 

It was the day Iris and Tom went on their first date that Barry broke down. Not because he wished he could take it back, or crash their date, or anything so juvenile, but because he realized in one great rush everything he was giving up, and he finally let himself mourn that. 

He was in the Pipeline, sitting amidst the glowing blue lights, crying into his knees as he sat back against the door. Thirty years old and he was huddled like the little boy he’d been the day he lost his mother. There were other things that had hurt as deeply as that night, few and far between but equally powerful and moving. Often it was death, like holding Snart’s hand while he died at ninety-three. But sometimes it was as simple as saying goodbye to something beautiful that needed to move on to something better. 

Barry jolted to attention when he felt the presence of someone sit beside him, unsure how anyone had gotten so close without him realizing. It was Snart. He didn’t place a caring hand on Barry’s shoulder or pull him into a one-armed embrace, he just sat there, mirroring Barry’s position, with his arms propped up on his thighs, hands clasped between his knees. 

“Everything okay?” Barry sniffled, because Snart looked pensive like he’d come to the Labs not to volunteer for patrol, but to tell Barry something. 

The musing expression gave way to irritated disbelief as Snart dropped his eyes to the side to look at him. “Think that’s my line, kid. You’re the one with the waterworks.” 

“I’m fine,” Barry insisted as he rubbed the tears from his eyes, wondering why he kept finding himself crying around Snart. He chuckled at the even more skeptical look his words afforded him. “I’m good. Really. Just…letting some things go. But it’s okay. It’ll be okay. And anyway,” he said more forcefully, rocking his shoulder into Snart and making the other man sway to the side, “I am thirty years old. Almost thirty-one. Do you think you could lay off with the kid stuff now?”

Snart hesitated with a grudging tilt of his head, but finally rocked back into Barry with the same teasing shoulder contact. “It’s comparative. So no.”

“Jerk.”

“Brat.”

Barry laughed. “I think I suddenly know how Lisa feels.”

“Oh no. You’d have to be ten times more annoying and invasive of my personal space to compare with my sister.” He paused again, smirking as he appraised Barry sitting beside him, leaning against him now since their mutual shoving had resulted in close proximity that neither seemed to mind. “So you’re on the right track.”

Barry chuckled again, and through his laughter the last of his tears dried. He and Snart fell into an easy silence after that. It was nice just sitting. Just being. Their shoulders, arms, and the edge of their thighs touching. Snart’s breathing was steady, his presence…companionable. 

A vision of tubes, a heart monitor, and other whirring machines assaulted Barry, and he sucked in a breath. That was decades away. Snart was still young. Snart was still here. Snart was one of the few constants in Barry’s life that had become even more constant than he’d been the first time around. 

“Did I hear Miss West had a date tonight?” Snart asked after several minutes had passed, quiet and casual like, though Barry didn’t doubt Snart knew exactly what he was asking. 

“Yep. Good guy too. I introduced them.”

“That right? Always wondered why you never…”

Barry glanced at Snart, and found the man contemplating him again with tense brows, but no scorn or subterfuge. “Wasn’t meant to be,” Barry said.

Snart’s frown deepened, like he was searching for the lie, but eventually he nodded. “Sounds like you could use a drink then.” He pushed from the wall, stood, and looked down at Barry expectantly. 

Barry scrambled to his feet. “You know I can’t get drunk, right?”

“Who said I was buyin’? Pretty sure it’s your turn.”

“What? No way. What about Christmas?”

“That was a party, Barry. Everyone pitched in. Doesn’t count,” Snart said as they traipsed from the Pipeline toward the elevator. “But I suppose I do still owe you a belated Christmas present. How about this? First round of cocoa's on me. After that, you buy the shots.”

“It’s spring, Snart,” Barry grinned. “Not exactly cocoa weather.”

“Iced coffee then. I hear that Captain Cold drink at Jitters is chillingly delicious.”

Barry groaned and shoved Snart’s shoulder playfully. They’d had more physical contact in the past half hour, despite a few wayward hugs along the way, than in their previous years of knowing each other combined. It was nice. Snart didn’t flinch or look put out when Barry touched him, not the way Barry sometimes saw with others. He just smiled, slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and followed along at Barry’s side. 

They did end up getting cocoa when the Captain Cold drink proved to be a disappointment. Jitters didn’t have mini marshmallows, but the giant chocolate marshmallows they used with chocolate chips inside seemed to appease Snart. He had a surprising sweet tooth, turned out. Barry did too when the cocoa was that good. He went back for seconds after round one. 

They lost track of time talking at the beloved local coffee shop. Barry didn’t even realize it was closing time until the baristas started putting chairs up on tables. For the first time outside of a group setting, Barry and Snart had spent an entire evening together out of costume. 

They grew closer over that next year, closer than Barry realized until that too, like closing time at Jitters, had snuck up on him. 

Team Arrow was visiting, which now included Sara Lance and Ray Palmer regularly, as well as a few new members that were also part of the Justice League. The JLA was growing larger by the day. By the end of the next six months, The Watchtower would be built, and then things would really change—for the better. 

Barry put forth Snart’s name for JLA membership earlier than he had in the original timeline, but to his surprise, Snart turned him down when the vote came back to let him in. 

“But why? I don’t understand. You’re a hero.”

“You’re the hero, Barry. I’m just looking out for my city.”

Barry wanted to push, because he knew Snart was wrong. He’d done so much more than just protect Central City. He might swear up and down that the only reason he'd cared about saving the future from Vandal Savage was because that affected Central too, but it simply wasn’t true. Snart loved saving people, no matter what city they were from, or how they related to his personal, daily life. He’d helped Barry so many times, with so many threats and challenges. 

So Barry said what he always did. “No matter what you say, Snart, your choices always make you a hero in my eyes.”

They were getting ready to face a legion of villains that just so happened to be converging on Central City instead of Gotham or Metropolis, but if things had been different, Barry knew Snart would still have agreed to come along. 

Snart looked around at the large gathered crew of heroes preparing to fight, so many of them more powerful than him, better trained, with better tech or remarkable abilities, but none of that mattered to Barry. Snart knew his city, knew many of the heroes, knew how to plan and play to the right people’s strengths or weaknesses. He was an asset, plain and simple. Barry didn’t want history to forget that this time. 

Snart’s face hardened for a moment as he took in their…friends, fists tight at his sides, jaw tense, but when he looked at Barry, all of that melted away. “If you say so, kid.”

They won that day. They usually did, though Barry knew better than to ever take anything for granted, especially having a second chance to do most things over again. A few injuries needed attention, but he and Snart both walked away with nary a bruise—Barry’s already fading. 

Barry got caught up talking with Oliver, didn’t realize everyone else had already slipped away to the medical wing for treatment, or left to get something to eat, or to crash in the nearest bed, until he entered the now expansive locker room where there were cases for nearly every super suit imaginable, even when just visiting. 

Snart was there alone hanging up his parka, then sat down on the bench to remove his boots. 

Barry’s cowl had long since been drawn back for the night. He pulled his gloves from his hands as he moved to join Snart. “You sure I can’t interest you in an official Justice League of America business card?” 

Snart glanced over his shoulder with an amused eyebrow raise. They’d known each other for over half a decade now. A few years they’d been at odds, but so much had changed since that first foiled heist on a Central City street. Snart had more grey in his hair now, a few more lines around his eyes, but for the most part he still looked ten years younger than he was, ever cool and confident. 

“If you change your mind,” Barry shrugged, flashing through changing so fast that one moment he was pulling down the zipper to his suit, and the next the suit was on his mannequin and he was smoothing a dark maroon sweatshirt over his jeans. 

Snart stood, barefoot, still wearing the all black outfit Cisco had made for him, in some ways similar to Barry’s suit just without the cowl since he still had a parka and hood, with a neatly folded pile of clothing to change into and a simpler pair of shoes resting on the bench. He rolled his eyes at Barry’s quick-change. “Easy to envy your abilities, Flash.” He took a breath, eyes a little heavy-lidded, as he rubbed absently at his sore shoulder. “Rather be soaking off the night’s work already.”

A wicked idea struck Barry.

Snart picked up on it immediately. “Don’t even think about it.”

But now Barry had to. He tuned into his connection to the Speed Force and had Snart changed out of his remaining Cold gear, folded and ready to be laundered, and skillfully dressed in his fresh clothing and shoes in less than five seconds. “Ta da!” Barry exclaimed with outstretched arms. 

Snart stood a little shell-shocked, faint color filling his cheeks as he looked down at himself. “That…was an odd sensation.” He gathered his composure quickly though, and straightened the collar of his button-down. Then he smirked. “Just an excuse to see me naked, huh?” 

“Obviously…” Barry winked.

Snart laughed, and Barry laughed with him, and considering they were only a few feet apart, it made sense that their shared mirth would bring them unconsciously closer. All Barry would have to do to crowd in on Snart completely was back him up one more step against the case for the parka and cold gun.

Their merriment dwindled, leaving behind an air of something decidedly static and serious. Barry took that additional step forward and Snart’s back hit the glass. His eyes looked startled and so, so blue. 

“Barry…”

“Shut up, Snart.” 

Barry hadn’t kissed anyone since Patty. It had been years. Yet his body slotted against Snart’s like they fit just so, Barry’s hands pressed to Snart’s chest, Snart’s hands at Barry’s waist, their hips aligned, heads tilting, mouths open, and then…the smooth uncertain glide of tongues. Barry shivered and pressed in closer to Snart, even as the rhythm of their mouths remained exploratory and slow.

Barry’s hands had fisted in Snart’s shirt when he paused for breath. Snart licked his lips. Let his eyes flick down and back up Barry’s body. 

“Well?” Barry said, hiding his worry that he’d made a mistake, that he’d read Snart wrong, with a quivering smile.

“Mmm,” Snart hummed rather than answer, though the resonance of the sound made Barry’s gut tighten. “Hungry?” Snart asked. 

“Starving.” 

The color remained in Snart’s cheeks, and likely in Barry’s too as they left the cortex, left the Labs, in search of a late dinner. They didn’t sleep together that night, but before they parted ways, Snart stepped into Barry’s body and stole another kiss as deftly as he’d ever stolen anything, tasting faintly of the chocolate shake he’d washed his Big Belly Burger down with. 

During the following days and weeks Barry felt like a teenager, him and Snart reaching for each other anytime no one was looking, hiding behind corners, listening for approaching footsteps in order to separate before they were caught. Not that either of them thought anyone would disapprove. Not now. Not anymore. Not in 2021 when neither Barry nor Snart had been with anyone for years. 

After the first few weeks, Barry wondered if most of their friends already suspected something, and had suspected before there was anything to suspect. 

The final straw was when Iris pulled him aside, squeezed his hand, and said, “I’m happy for you, Barry.”

Barry invited Snart to his apartment that night. It was a strange, awkward affair, too much like a date, which wasn’t them, two grown men who’d known each other for years, and seen each other at their best and worst. 

“I’m trying too hard,” Barry finally said. 

“You’re trying too hard,” Snart agreed.

“Wanna eat in front of the TV and binge watch Star Trek: The Next Generation instead?”

If ever Snart had looked at Barry with unbridled affection, that was the moment. They ate lasagna right out of the pan, tore pieces off of a giant loaf of bread rather than cut it, and split a bottle of wine. Barry liked the taste even if it didn’t affect him. But two glasses each meant Snart’s confidence boosted by the time the bottle ran dry, and before the end of Lieutenant Barclay’s terrifying encounter with the transporter, Snart leaned Barry back against the cushions. 

Not for the first time Barry wondered how he ever thought this man was cold; he was sweet and caring, loyal to a fault, if a little self-deprecating. He’d just needed someone to believe in him. 

Snart settled between Barry’s thighs and kissed down his neck. Barry shuddered. 

“Why did we waste so many years not doing this?” 

Snart rumbled laughter into his skin. “I’m sure it’s somehow your fault.”

“Ha…yeah…I’ll accept that…long as you keep doing that thing with your tongue.”

Snart kissed him hotly at the juncture of his neck and collarbone, leaving a wet mark that he sucked on eagerly. “Deal.”

They barely made it into the bedroom, but the sofa wasn’t large enough for what they had planned. Thirty-two years old—for the second time—and Barry still felt self-conscious undressing for someone, even though Snart’s eyes raked over every bare inch of his skin like he was witness to something miraculous. Most days Barry still felt like the skinny nerd he’d been before the lightning strike whenever he looked in the mirror, but through Snart’s eyes he could believe he was so much more. 

It helped Barry’s anxiety that Snart seemed shy too. Not to kiss and touch and pull Barry to him, not even to lose his underwear, but he hesitated before he pulled his shirt over his head, and Barry saw clearly the defined lines of Snart’s body that he hadn’t actually snuck too much of a peek at when he changed his clothes that first night they kissed. 

Barry expected the scars, he just wasn’t prepared for how many there were. 

He ran his fingers over every piece of puckered skin he could reach. A map of bad memories. A few good, mixed in with Snart’s childhood, from missions, and heists he’d loved committing despite damage sustained, even a few that were new. Barry smiled as he traced them, because even the ones that came with something terrible had led Snart to right where they were. 

Barry followed the scars across Snart’s chest until he reached his neck and looked up into the cool blue eyes staring down at him. They were damp. Not quite close to tears, just wet. Just raw. Barry knew that emotion and wanted to kiss it away, reassure Snart that this really was everything Barry wanted, even if he hadn’t fully realized or accepted that until he’d first tasted Snart’s lips. 

They kissed again, their naked hips collided, their hands ever reaching to touch new spaces and curves of each other’s bodies. Barry let himself be noisy and grateful for every shiver Snart caused, every time he lost himself in his powers and shook and shook and vibrated like he might pulse right off the bed. 

When Snart finally sought to connect them deeper, to press inside Barry and heighten the sensations between them, he looked Barry in the eyes and waited—for a nod, some sign that it was okay. To think that such a sometimes frightening man could be so timid. It warmed Barry in spite of Snart’s cold hands. 

He brought his palm to Snart’s face. “It’s okay,” he said, and offered the nod that was needed.

Barry gasped as he clung to Snart, legs rocked back, hips lifted, body folded and slowly…slowly filled. He’d longed for this, he simply hadn’t known that until he found it, never could have guessed that changing the past would mean this future. But with Snart, moving in synchronized motion for drawn out perfect minutes on end, Barry had no regrets. He would take none of it back. He would do nothing differently. 

Except what awaited them in 2024. 

It was less than three years away. Less than two, really, before the initial signs would begin. After the first year with Snart—with Len—Barry knew he grew antsy. After the second, sometimes he would snap when he knew Len only wanted to comfort him. He couldn’t explain his reticence to his partner, couldn’t let anyone know that he knew what was coming. Every risk had to be calculated. Every change thought out. He wished he could tell Len the truth, but whenever he almost caved only to hold back, it was the one thing Len never pushed him on. 

He challenged Barry on so many things. Being reckless. Putting others before his own safety, sometimes without needing to—at least in Len’s mind. Even after Len finally agreed to join The Justice League, he still pulled seniority over Barry as being older and wiser, no matter how much higher up in the group hierarchy Barry was. 

“If we’re defined by our choices, kid, then you need to be smarter about yours.”

Yet when something revolving around the crisis reared its head, Barry grew tense in a way that Len seemed to understand, and he’d just nod and leave Barry alone. The last thing Barry wanted Len to see was how terrified he was of what came next. 

When the moment finally came, no amount of preparation could have readied Barry. He’d tried to think of some other way, he’d had years to think of something, anything, but his speed was the only thing that would work, something no one else could offer. He had to. He had to… So when that moment came, so much like the first time, with so many of their friends and loved ones there at the edge of the city with them, right before Barry started to run, he pulled Len to him and held his face in his hands. 

“Don’t be afraid. You’ll see me again, Len. I promise you’ll see me again.”

“Barry…?” Len looked stricken, not understanding because Barry hadn’t explained what he was going to do. 

“I love you,” Barry said. 

And then he ran. 

As the Speed Force enveloped him and he heard the screams of those he loved echoing after him as he faded into nothing, he tried to remember the moment he’d broken free. How that had felt. How he’d finally managed it. He focused on the present, on his body, on a sense of time and solid matter that could anchor him to where he wanted to be. He screamed and he fought, because all he wanted was to break free sooner and this time to get to live his life from the moment he’d lost it. 

Barry gasped just as he had the first time when there was suddenly ground beneath his hands and knees. He looked up and the sky was dark. The once lush land of the woods and clearing outside Central City had been left as barren dirt like it’d survived a radius blast. No one else was there. And in that awful moment, looking around at the all too familiar, lonely scene, even though it was night instead of morning, Barry feared it had all happened again and he had missed decades of his life. 

“No,” he ripped his cowl back and pounded the dirt with his fist, “please no, I can’t…lose him again…not yet, not yet…”

Tears blurred his vision as he looked up and saw the brightening skyline of Central City coming to life as the sun set. Had it changed? Could he tell? Had he lived all of that again and yet so differently just to end up back where he’d started?

“I just want to get one more sample!” Cisco’s voice rang across the field of dirt, causing Barry to whip his head to the left where he could make out his friend cresting the hill, but looking over his shoulder, not noticing Barry yet. “If Barry wasn’t killed—he wasn’t, of course he wasn’t—then there has to be some—Barry!” he exclaimed when he finally turned forward. 

He looked the same age he’d been at the start of the battle. “Cisco…?”

Cisco ran to him, fell to his knees in front of Barry, and hugged him so hard, Barry coughed, and laughed, and started to sob harder as relief flooded his aching chest. Through the haze of his tear-filled vision, he saw the others surge up over the hill as well, running, falling upon him, and hugging him just as fiercely. 

“I’m home…I’m still home…” he cried and tried to hug everyone back, but he was sobbing so hard he couldn’t breathe, like the first decade and the second were twenty years of grief he’d carried on his shoulders and finally, finally he was getting all of it out in a way he never had before, not fully, not enough to heal until he’d put this crisis behind him. 

It had been an hour since he evaporated before their eyes. Only an hour. That knowledge just made Barry cry harder. 

When he finally broke through his sobs and brushed the tears from his eyes, the others were all around him, smiling, crying with him, laughing, but Len was the one holding him, sitting there in the dirt together in their costumes. 

“This is the moment, isn’t it?” Len whispered as he held Barry close and kissed his temple. “This is where you’re from. Why everything changed that night.”

He knew. Of course he’d always known. Maybe not fully, not truly, until he’d experienced time travel himself, but when he met Barry in the cortex that day after defeating Vandal Savage, he already knew. He’d been waiting for this moment just like Barry had. 

Barry reached for Len’s face the same way he had when he promised they’d see each other again, even though part of him had feared he was saying goodbye. He nodded. Maybe one day he’d tell Len everything, but right now all he wanted was to kiss him and hold him in his arms, and bask in the miracle of being surrounded by everyone who loved him. 

“You did everything you could, Barry. You always do. Doesn’t matter if you fail, just that you try. But I am so glad,” Len’s voice cracked, ever so subtly, “that this time you won.” 

Barry knew he probably clung too hard and risked summoning more tears, but the words came to his lips anyway. "If death ends all…we cannot meet death better." 

Len sucked in a breath that proved his tears were close at hand too. “Just promise me, Barry, that you’re not meeting death anytime soon.”

It was a very different news article that Iris wrote that day. Her surname had a different hyphen after it, and the content was one of joy and triumph. 

That year, she had her first baby. So did Lisa. The Justice League continued to grow, while each city had its own slew of regular heroes. Instead of Wally taking over for Barry after the crisis, Barry kept his brother at his side. No one ever said Central City couldn’t have two speedsters. 

As the years passed, those missed years Barry hadn’t gotten to live the first time around, sometimes he traveled through space. Sometimes he traveled through time. He saved people, and cities, and countries, and worlds. He made friends, and a few enemies. He loved every one of his nieces and nephews, which didn’t in the slightest limit to just Iris and Wally’s children. He trained generations of speedsters and heroes, and a few wayward souls who might not have become heroes if someone hadn’t given them a chance and believed there was good in them. 

And he did it all with Leonard Snart at his side. 

Eventually, Barry made sure that instead of a section for Captain—and one day Commander—Cold, The Flash Museum was dedicated to both of them. Everyone should remember what Len did for his city. Even if the dearest things to Barry were private just between them. 

They lived an amazing life, but one day it all came back around. This day Barry didn’t dread as much as he thought he would, not the way he had feared the return of the crisis. Because as sad as he knew the day would be, Len had lived a good, long life, and not even heroes got to live forever. 

It was the same room in the hospice wing that Barry remembered sitting in as a young man. It had startled Barry when Len first moved in, needing round the clock treatment in his final days. Len was ninety-three. Barry only seventy-five. Somehow that had never mattered in all the years they were together.

Barry aged like anyone aged, despite the Speed Force keeping him healthy. He might live another twenty or thirty years, but likely not, not with the toll the Speed Force took as well. Whether he had five years left or dozens though, Barry knew he could face whatever came next because of the love that surrounded him and Len through their friends. 

This time, as Len drew close to his final moments, it wasn’t just Barry there to say goodbye. Len and Iris had grown close over the years. He and Wally too. The same people were gone by now—Cisco, Caitlin, Mick, and Lisa—but Barry hadn’t let anyone forget the contributions and heroism of Commander Cold. 

Their nieces and nephews were all there, with children of their own. Anyone and everyone who’d ever been trained by Len. Other heroes who’d known them. Even a few villains who weren’t so bad. Barry had filled Len’s life with love and laughter, just as Len had filled his with the same, and all that joy was there with them at the end. 

Len nodded as Barry held his hand, a spark in his blue eyes as if he finally realized the last piece to the puzzle. "If death ends all, we cannot meet death better." He laughed as he said it, and Barry nodded. 

This was where it had all started and this was where it would end. But this time Barry had gotten here the long way. 

Len’s last words were spoken through a smile. “You’ll see me again, Barry. You’ll see me again.”

Barry cried when Len grew still, but less tears than he expected. Iris hugged him, and he cherished that his best friend had been there through all of this with him, even if he’d let her go and never had her as his wife. He’d made a choice. And another choice. And another. In the end it all amounted to a life he didn’t regret one moment of. 

When the day came that the last of his choices were behind him, Barry wasn’t scared. It was almost like giving himself over to the Speed Force, all lightning and light and a surge of adrenaline he knew only too well; like some great door opening, and there waiting for him on the other side…was Len. 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> I made Tom up. I think someone had this idea of a Tom Allen on tumblr once to explain the headline in 2024 if ColdFlash happened? He could be whoever you want. 
> 
> Comments are love!


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